


Insanity

by orionstarlight



Series: A Charred Deck of Cards [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, F/M, Hisoka's Bungee Gum Nen Ability (Hunter X Hunter), Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: You walk up to him, your heart shaking in your chest, like a soldier about to walk into battle. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t have bothered to entertain any form of small talk. He’s not the kind to put on a show for his prey.Your fingers close around the card he’s holding. “So it was a promise to kill me.” You look up at him with shining eyes.-----Where you've watched Hisoka from the sidelines for too long and you want to have some fun with him. Also you have Nen.
Relationships: Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter)/Reader
Series: A Charred Deck of Cards [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951123
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	1. Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Not really my thing, but a friend convinced me to write and here I am, sharing with the class.

* * *

Insanity, you had to call it. Could it even have another word?

Every time you took your place against the wall, you’d watch him carefully, like there was something fascinating about killing another so easily. And usually, there would be, but to you? You’d seen death a million times over, nothing new and exciting about that. So, why insanity? 

Because with every move, he seemed different. More advanced, more subtle in his technique, more flashy. And you loved it when he would point a card in your direction before leaving the arena. It made your heart flutter with uncertainty.

Was it a promise to kill you? Or a show of gratitude for coming to every match he was in? Clueless as you were, it never stopped you from coming, until a day when you decided to do something so inevitably bold it would surely result in your end, and yet, even so, the insanity of the situation was no longer something you could resist.

The final fight is over, you can hear the silence. You smile, your eyes closed as you breathe in the air in the room you stand. You’re all alone on this rock that floats in the middle, ground so far away you can’t see it even with your eyes open. You rarely come here, only when you know he’s away, but tonight you’re bold. Tonight you’re everything you wish you could stay forever.

“I’ve always wondered how you manage to get up here,” I say, casting my eyes down towards his feet, my back still to him.

“Not all mysteries are meant to be solved. Didn’t someone tell you that long ago?”

You smile, turning around. His eyes are lit with a fire you can mimic all too well; it’s wonderful to know the two of you even share that much.

“You want to know about my Nen, don’t you? No one else seems to have the answer you crave, so what better to do than go right to the source,” you ask him nonchalantly, knowing it kills him that someone would even speak this informally to him, someone he doesn’t even know.

It’s a game. You knew it from the second he caught your stare at one of his earlier matches. All it comes down to now is a final battle. A final win or lose.

You watch his face instead of his hands when he produces a card. “You really shouldn’t have come here. I’d say stick to the wall in the arena next time, but there won’t be a next time. Apologies.”

You walk up to him, your heart shaking in your chest, like a soldier about to walk into battle. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t have bothered to entertain any form of small talk. He’s not the kind to put on a show for his prey.

Your fingers close around the card he’s holding. “So it was a promise to kill me.” You look up at him with shining eyes.

Your blood is boiling with excitement. You take his hand and bring the card to your throat, watching his demeanour change. He’s had eager opponents before, but you’re different in one tiny detail: you’re not eager to defeat him. You’re eager for him to defeat _you_.

You gave in to insanity long ago in order to reap the rewards it brings. He doesn’t understand, he thinks you’re a nuisance. Dragging him here for no reason, and practically begging him to kill you. He doesn’t like being told what to do, even if you didn’t say anything outright. The only thing you’ve done is made the first move in a very delicate game of chess, not a single part of you asking for death.

He knows in order to survive, you’ll have to show your Nen, but that would also give him what he wants far too quickly. “Let’s make a deal. If you tell me why you’re so hesitant to kill me, I’ll agree to a fight to the death. How’s that?”

It’s a proposition that interests him, you see that easily. It requires him to be more straightforward than he likes, but it would mean an opponent he has not yet faced. Can you get him to agree?

“You certainly know how to intrigue a man, but I must say, I’m getting a little bored of fights. Have you no other option for me to choose?”

You consider it. He’ll think it a mean trick though.

“Fine. I’ll show you my Nen. Free of charge for all the fights you let me watch.”

The card digs into your neck a little. He’s no fool, and your sudden change of position must have good reasoning. Is it possible that you’re willing to show him because you’re that desperate for an answer from him? Surely there must be something else that drives you.

You take a step back away from him, eyes glittering dangerously. You don’t have any fear in you right now, even with the knowledge he might not accept and kill you instead, but to you a thought like that is almost arousing. Every bone in your spine tingles with the thrill of not knowing his next move, of not even trying to predict it.

He starts walking towards you.

“I see you at Heaven’s Arena for the first time, wandering around, fingers touch-testing every surface. I pay you no mind at first. You look so lost, and when offered help, your eyes light aflame with refusal. It is a look I recognise all too well.

“Then you see my match is starting. You don’t gasp, cheer, boo. You stand, taking it all in, but in every fight that follows, your stance never wavers. You never accept a challenge should someone happen to ask you, preferring instead the company of your own solitude. So I am intrigued as to why you stand on the same floor every day, watching me, instead of advancing higher.

“With that fire in your eyes, there must be something hidden. Something that not only draws me to you, but draws you to me.” He steps towards you a final time, you step back. “You’re not just someone in need of learning more skills, someone desperate to prove your worth. You’re more than human, but what that more is, no one knows.”

He thinks highly of himself, as though he thinks it’s inevitable for anything he just said to be wrong. 

“So you want to know whether or not you imagined that fire in my eyes you think you saw. You want to know if it’s perhaps connected to my Nen.”

The corner of his lips moves up ever so slightly. You adjust your footing on the edge of the rock you stand on, neither of you breaking eye contact as tension builds up. You have to show him now what you promised, because you know you’re going to face more than the Queen of Hearts if you make him wait too long.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. I don’t have Nen,” you whisper, and just as his shock turns into rage, you’re in free-fall, wind whipping through your hair. It feels wonderful to be this weightless, to know that you’ve angered a man that should never be angered. It’s a whole new level of power, and if that means your death, then so be it. But you know you won’t die today.

The attachment of something elastic to your stomach hits you like a truck, but before you know it you’re going in the opposite direction, against gravity, choiceless in this moment. He catches you the moment you're arms length away, grabbing you roughly by the jaw to make sure you don’t decide to try jumping again.

“You’re a bigger fool than I took you for. Did you really think I was going to let you go that easy?”

“So I was right. You are predictable,” you sigh, making a disappointed clicking sound. “I was really hoping you’d let me fall to my death.” You grip his jaw just like he holds yours, not as vulnerable in this moment as he was hoping you’d be.

“I thought I could count on you to be a little more creative with your decisions, but I suppose I wasted more time than I thought I did thinking you were someone else. I’ve witnessed you first hand take pleasure in someone else’s pain, but not once have you hurt me since we’ve faced each other, not even a broken bone.

“You’re supposed to be this great Hunter, this great Floor Master, but you’re nothing but another bastard looking for glory and fear,” you finish.

Taking in the look on his face, anyone in their right mind would be pleading for their life, shaking all the way to their core, but you’re not in your right mind, and you haven’t been for a long time. 

“Why would I be looking for something I already have?”

“Because you crave the attention that comes along with it, the power. We all do, Hisoka.” You made a deal with him not too long ago, and since he’s so adamant you keep up your end of it, you put a little pressure into your touch, watching him wince when it starts to burn.

Of course he was right about the fire in your eyes, but he had no idea it was more than metaphorical. He’s mesmerised as you pry yourself from his touch, stepping towards the centre of the rock. “You wanted to see my Nen. Well I don’t break my promises.”

You focus, battling through the pain as best you can while your spine rearranges itself, cracking every bone it has just to make a little room. It doesn’t take as long to form as many types of Nen do, but without durability you wouldn’t survive the transformation. When it’s all over, you stand in front of the magician, wings made of fire protruding out of your back.

He doesn’t move at first, but when he does, you swing one wing forward, the feathers landing in the stone in front of him, having crystalised the moment they detached from your wing.

“I do hope you enjoyed the show,” you breathe, and take off through the hole in the ceiling before he can catch you. You’ve piqued his interest — now all that’s left to do is let him make the next move on the chessboard.


	2. Risk Provides Great Reward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, this is your last chance to turn back. This is just 2500 or so words of foreplay and smut, so seriously, I’m sorry, but I also don’t regret it. Forgive me.

* * *

You may have lied in regards to him not hurting you. The bruise the Bungee Gum left on your stomach seems larger than life, and once the adrenaline wore off you could barely make it home. You realise he only wanted to catch you, but when you tie in his abilities with physics, there’s no way you would have gotten back on that rock unscathed.

You swap out the current pea bag you’re holding against the wound for one that’s frozen, groaning when you have to straighten up again. “Damn that stupid clown. I’d rather he’d killed me.”

“I haven’t completely given up on the idea.” You’re not shocked that he showed up in your home, but you weren’t expecting him to just jump out of the shadows, and you drop the frozen bag, wincing. “And I’m a magician, not a clown.”

He passes you the bag so you don’t have to bend down, and you accept it skeptically. You still don’t know why he’s here, and you doubt it’s because he wants to make you tea and tuck you into bed until you feel better.

“I’m afraid I can’t do much about your injury, what with my Bungee Gum only working on external wounds rather than internal. You’ll have to forgive me.”

You scoff. Forgive him? Not likely, even though you were the one who chose to jump instead. To anyone else it looked like he saved you just to make you keep your promise, but to you it was something so predictable you would have rather died. Could this really be the same man you’d been watching fight for so long, or did you just imagine everything you thought you knew about him? Either way, now you know that he doesn’t have an ounce of trust in his body, not even for those he has some form of respect for.

“Well if you haven’t completely given up on the idea of killing me, could you hurry it up? As entertaining watching me die slowly might be for you, I’ll stab myself on purpose to piss you off.” He smiles. It’s not sinister, it’s not comforting — it’s just a smile that you can’t decipher the meaning of.

He moves the bag out of the way and lifts up your shirt, placing his fingers on the wound. You do your best to keep a straight face but the more pressure he puts the harder it gets. “And you had me believing that I hadn’t hurt you. All of my opponents either have a scar or a grave to remember me by.”

“But I’m not your opponent. All I am to you is an oddity,” you say, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from your skin. “You’ve seen all I have to offer despite my wishes. Now I want you to leave. There’s nothing more I can do for you.”

“I strongly disagree,” he murmurs, dragging his index finger down your cheek and neck. When you glance at his eyes, you realise it’s the same look he’d give you in the Arena, only this time you know exactly what he’s trying to say.

_ I’m going to make you mine. _

“So this is your next move? It’s like sacrificing your King.”

“A little risk provides great reward.”

You look him over. He’s prepared for this, to win his own way, but that’s still winning, and the best part is that he thinks it’s going to work on you, but you’re not just someone who rolls over and lets the other person take the crown. First and foremost, you’re someone who’ll die trying.

“Too bad you don’t deserve one,” you say, backing away. Your stomach still hurts when you move, but the only thing you can do right now is suck up the pain as you deny him what he wants. Considering all the times you’ve evaded an answer or simply told him no, you’re really surprised he hasn’t killed you already, not even a single attempt.

You can clearly see on his face that he doesn’t appreciate you sidestepping this request of his. Oh, you’re definitely going to enjoy this.

“Now, then, let’s be honest with each other here: are you really in any position to negotiate right now?” he asks, pulling you close and once again pressing down on the bruise. 

You want to make him hurt in a way he hasn’t been able to do to someone else before. You want to make it clear he can’t control you. You want to make him understand that he will never hold any power over you. You want to make him bleed.

But you can’t. Not when he looks at you like he’s looking at you.

“I’m always in a position to negotiate,” you whisper, placing a hand on his cheek. He looks so vulnerable for a moment it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You’ve broken the tension as soon as your fingers lace in his hair, taking the lead on this one. He smiles against the kiss, pleased that he’s gotten you to act on your impulses, and his teeth pull on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you bleed. He wipes it off with his thumb, sucking it clean.

“You taste divine.”

A masochist attracted to power. You can work with that. 

You hold onto him as you walk backwards towards the bedroom; your eyes might be closed but you know the route all to well. His nails rake across your discoloured skin, forcing you to gasp in both pain and pleasure. He knows just how to hurt you so that you can enjoy it as much as he does, laying all his cards down in the table just to show you his equivalent of a good time, which means you have to sacrifice a part of your pride now too.

Where your fingers meet his skin you leave lightly charred flesh, marking him just like he’s marked you. His low chuckle lets you know you’ve hit the nail on the head, and flames dance in your eyes, his eagerness helping you rid yourself of your inhibitions, of your reservations.

“Stop thinking,” he urges. “You don’t need your thoughts anymore.”

You’re thankful the door to the bedroom is open because you don’t think you would have made it in otherwise, and he closes it behind you, your back hitting the wood gently despite the rough atmosphere.

His pelvis is flush against yours as his nails dig into your bark, red streaks no doubt appearing instantaneously. He doesn’t dare keep the same pace with you, switching from teasing your shirt over your head for what feels like millennia to latching onto your collarbone almost violently, finding your sweet spot within seconds, making you really glad he’s keeping you steady and in place.

You break his hold on you for only a second to undress him from the waist up, needing him to be just as exposed as you are. You place a firm palm on his abs as his mouth moves lower and lower, and those nails on your back stop for just long enough to unhook your bra, granting him better access to his destination.

Your breathing starts to get heavy, chest heaving up and down as his teeth pull on the skin of your breast, his fingers tugging at the nipple of your other one, and you’re doing you’re very best not to indulge him, keeping your mouth clamped shut so no unwanted noises escape you, but the more assertive he gets, the harder that control is for you to keep.

“Are you going to tease me all night or are you going to fuck me?”

He looks up at you from his current position and you nearly faint from the view. “Just waiting for you to say please.”

The hand that’s on his abs moves to his chest, forcing his mouth to leave your skin, looking him dead in the eyes. You? Say please?

“I don’t beg. Now fuck me or I’ll fuck you.”

Oh, that smile of his has you close to falling, and you make sure to shut him up before he can say anything else too cocky for your liking. You push him back towards the bed as you dominate the kiss that joins you, his hand travelling from your breasts to your ass, holding on tightly.

You climb on top of him slowly, fingertips dancing lightly on his bare skin, and with great care you place kisses from his jaw to his neck to his chest and even further down until you get to his trousers, which is when you look up and make yourself look like the most innocent person in the world.

You make sure to avoid the area straining for attention when you peel them off slowly, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his thighs, his raspy breathing killing you softly. You make your way back up his body, placing your hands either side of his head, looking down at him and his beautifully flushed cheeks.

It almost feels normal.

Without warning he presses on the after-effects of his Bungee Gum visible on your body, making you cry out both from pain and unexpectedness, letting him change positions so that you’re under him now.

“It’s like you’re asking to be hurt,” he says, before his teeth sink into your thighs, breaking skin, but he sucks the blood away and you don’t care how many hickeys he’s going to leave on you if this is how it feels to get them.

Slower than you did, he pulls on your trouser legs, but out of respect for yourself you manage to not plead, to stop yourself from begging him to hurry up. If he wants this torturous pace then that’s what he’ll get until you can figure out how to take the reins back. 

“I really wouldn’t recommend taunting me like this.”

His eyes shine with mischief. “Why? How are you going to make me regret this?”

With the leg that’s still over his shoulder, you wrap it around his neck, twisting him to make him fall, but he’s faster than you predicted, and you’re the one who lands on your stomach, hitting the mattress in agony.

He comes up behind you, trapping you in the position you’re lying in, his voice low in your ear making you shudder.

“Now, now. Patience.” But you have none. You grab his neck and press hard, ever so slowly cutting off his oxygen supply until he starts to feel heavy, by which time you manage to position yourself with both your legs either side of his waist.

“Now, now. Patience,” you say, mocking him.

You catch his wrist that holds his Joker card inches away from your throat, but you know he’s managed to snag your cheek, a tingling sensation coming from the cut. You throw the card away and use his fingers to wipe away the blood, cleaning them with your mouth just to taunt him.

“As much fun as I’m having, I’d rather you didn’t leave me looking like a dead body after an autopsy,” you say, propping yourself up and removing both his and your underwear before sitting back down and pulling him up by the chin so he’s at eye level. “How many times do I have to ask you to fuck me?”

With your arms around his neck, his own hands dig into your waist as he lifts you up and leisurely situates you back down again, neither one of you looking away the lower down you go. 

A second to gather your bearings before you start moving, and then you really have to bite back your tongue. Feeling him like you are now is something so eye-opening, every move of his hips doing its best to get even one moan out of you.

Once you relax you let yourself pick up the pace, but when he joins in with the movement your head throws itself back and your eyes close, holding onto him for dear life. His mouth goes for your neck, exposed skin practically in need of being touched, and dear God do you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

His fingers reach your upper back in a matter of seconds, securing you in his embrace so well that you barely notice him flipping the two of you over and holding your arms down either side of your head, and you already know you’ve made a lapse in judgement, but it’s too late to take it back now.

To hell with making no noise. Aside from the breaths you can just about take, you moan with every thrust, his hips snapping into you at a pace so brutal you can only describe it as carnal. Every chance you get you keep his mouth on yours, but even the kisses you share aren’t pretty and careful anymore.

You don’t care about the pain you’re in because of your stomach. He’s killing you and bringing you back to life every time he moves, his presence a force of nature you can’t deny.

You’re coming apart, you can feel the coil about to snap, and his forehead comes down to yours. “Let. Go.”

With his hand pressing down on the wound he’s so proud of like it’s art you have to sink your teeth into his shoulder as you scream, and finally he lets your arms go, letting you hold onto him as you both come off the dangerous high you’ve created.

You manage to focus your eyes on his face, his hand taking the hair out of your face. You can still feel him and you know all too well just how pleased he is with himself.

“I’m never doing that again with you,” you groan, shutting your eyes again, but when he moves it forces them open again.

“Who said we were finished?”

A masochist attracted to power. Oh yeah, you can definitely work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’re still here? God, okay, well at least leave kudos and maybe a comment please because I don’t know if I’ll ever write again now. Hope you enjoyed it at least.

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
